Do you like it?
by butnotquite
Summary: "I will be here all morning. I will be expecting you in an hour. If you don't appear within sixty minutes, I will not open the door for you."


"I have to stop thinking about her this way," Arthur mutters to himself as he shifts in his seat, hoping that the new position will take the discomfort he is feeling.

"Her" is the gorgeous brunette he has been making eyes at since he started coming to the shop a couple of months ago. He is new to the neighborhood and took to this coffee shop because it is in a quiet corner where he can be by himself for a few minutes each day.

Of course, any and all thoughts of peaceful contemplation flew out the window the moment he laid eyes on her.

She is petite but curvaceous, with dark brown curls that sway and bounce as she walks. Her skin is the smoothest shade of copper he has ever seen, and when she smiles...Arthur almost swallowed his tongue the first time he saw her smile.

They are beyond nodding acquaintances. Today, for example, Mystery Woman of Perfection (Arthur has yet to summon the courage to introduce himself and ask her name) actually said hello to him.

He was sure he mumbled some vague reply because she looked at him strangely and gave a small laugh.

"Have a good day, now," she smiled at him before leaving the shop. Her eyes met his as she said the words.

A nice, innocent gesture, but Arthur's thoughts are hardly that. He imagines her underneath him, her smile turning sultry, her warm brown gaze hooded with lust as she whispers his name. He imagines her skin is warm and smooth under his hands, and his tongue...Arthur shakes his head and frees himself from the mental images. He looks around him and is relieved that no one has paid him any attention.

He looks down at himself that there is a noticeable bulge in his trousers. He is annoyed and amused, and to relieve little Arthur of the pressure, he gulps down a scalding mouthful of coffee. His tongue feels like it's about to blister as he swallows the potent brew, but it takes his mind off the Lady of Perfection and, for a while, everything is okay.

What Arthur doesn't notice that the object of his desire is right outside the large portrait window, watching him all throughout his ordeal. He doesn't see her touch the tip of her tongue to the corner of her lips, a mischievous smile bowing them because her thoughts just about mirror his.

* * *

Guinevere has noticed the gorgeous blonde man ever since he appeared at her favorite coffee joint. She knows that he's interested because she feels his eyes on her every time she comes in. She has had her fair share of oglers, but this time, with this not-so-secret admirer, her skin grows warm and her pulse races.

He is quite beautiful, her mystery man. All broad shoulders and square jaw, a full lower lip that he unconsciously licks everytime he looks at her, and hair that is thick, golden, and perfect. But it is his eyes that are most telling. They're a clear, soft blue — well, at least Guinevere thinks they are because the few times she's looked into them, his pupils are dilated with desire.

And Guinevere knows it's lust because she's sure that her face mirrors what he's feeling.

Today, his gaze is more intent than usual and she actually has to stop herself from throwing herself at him.

She closes her eyes briefly as her drink is being prepared (which usually takes quite a bloody while because the people at the shop are fastidious about their brews), and imagines herself with the gorgeous stranger. She sees him pulling her blouse free from her prim skirt, him almost tearing it off in his haste. She thinks of his beautiful lips kissing her skin, his hands covering her breasts, fingers teasing her nipples which are now painfully hard.

Her eyes fly open as she hears the soft "thump" of the thick paper cup on the counter in front of her. She pays her bill, smiling at the young woman manning the till. As she turns, Guinevere's eyes collide with his and she smiles and says hello.

She sees his pupils dilate and his cheeks blush.

_'Busted,'_ Guinevere thinks. She knows what's on his mind and she realizes that she has the upper hand in this game.

He mumbles some vague reply and Guinevere all but chortles in amusement. He is so obvious.

She bids him goodbye and makes her way out of the shop. Mr. Gorgeous is so flustered that he can't even turn around. Guinevere stands outside the shop, watching the back of his head. He is still in his chair until she sees him shift sideways — to ease the pressure in his pants, she supposes.

A wicked smile plays on her lips as she mulls over what she wants to happen next. She is over them dancing around each other, and if the desire is mutual, then it has to be dealt with.

"See you tomorrow, Mystery Man," Guinevere whispers.

A plan was beginning to hatch.

* * *

Arthur walks into the coffee shop a little later than usual. It's a Saturday morning and the weekday crowd is absent. He makes his way to the counter and orders his usual brew: black, no cream but two sugars. He turns and nearly drops his cup because at his usual table is her: The Goddess of Perfection. She has her earbuds on, listening to music as she flips through a rather thick book. Arthur sees the tip of her tongue lick a corner of her lip as she smiles, amused by whatever it is that is on the page she is reading.

She is wearing a sheer blouse in a pale color that highlights the tawny perfection of her fabric gives a glimpse of the lacy camisole she is wearing underneath. The combo does little to calm Arthur's libido.

Arthur stands and stares. She's bathed in sunlight and he is mesmerized when her fingers touch the pendant hanging from a thin gold chain around her neck. He knows that the small heart charm rests just below the hollow of her throat and Arthur cannot even remember how many times how he has fantasized about touching his tongue to that indentation.

Arthur clears his throat and makes his way to his table.

_'I'll be damned if this isn't the morning I introduce myself,'_ he thinks.

He sits across her and takes in every single perfect curve and plane of her person. The slope of her nose, the curve of her cheek, the fullness of her mouth, the deep shadow of her cleavage visible above the dip of her neckline...Arthur's mind wanders there once again and he quickly crosses one leg over the other, jostling the table in the process.

The movement startles her and she automatically reaches for her cup, her lips forming an 'o' as she prevents its contents from spilling over.

"I'm so sorry!" Arthur blurts out as he grabs a napkin, ready to dab at any offending moisture.

"It's fine," she says and the warmth of her voice envelops his entire being. Lust shoots through him and he is unable to help his body from responding.

_'Godammit, Pendragon,'_ he mentally chastisises himself. _'You are a grown man, not a randy teenager. Act your age, for God's sake!'_

"Oh, hey, it's you,' she speaks again and Arthur finally looks up and into her warm brown eyes. "I think it's time I introduced myself."

She puts her hand out for him to shake.

"I'm Guinevere Lewis" she smiles at him.

"Arthur," he takes her hand — her beautiful, soft hand-and shakes it when all he wants is to kiss every finger before putting the digits inside his...

"...it's a mouthful."

"What?" He belatedly realizes that she has been talking while he was obsessing over her warm, soft, incredibly warm...

_'Snap out of it, Arthur!'_

"Most people call me Gwen. My full name is a mouthful."

A strange look is on her face and Arthur doesn't really know what to make of it.

She takes back her hand and looks at him. A ghost of a smile is on her lips, but her eyes are twinkling, like she is thinking of something amusing.

"I've seen you looking at me, you know."

Arthur gulps.

"I'm sorry," he begins. "I'm not a pervert, I swear..."

"I know."

He stares at her.

"Excuse me?"

She merely raises an eyebrow, and the simple action raises Arthur's temperature even more.

"You want me."

And with those three words, Arthur's control cracks. He puts his forehead on the table and takes a deep breath. He was sure she was going to send him to jail.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles again and raises his head. Her shoulders are shaking with the effort to control her laughter.

"Please don't send me to jail," he pleads softly. "I promise never to bother you again. I'll...I'll switch coffee shops, you will never see me again."

Her smooth brow is suddenly marred by a frown.

"Now why would I do that?"

"Say what?"

"Your attention is...flattering," her voice caresses the word. "And I would be lying if I told you that I never fantasized about you, too."

Arthur's libido and heart rate slam into each other and he swears that his pants are about to burst.

"We're both consenting adults," she shrugs. "So if you're up for it..."

Her voice trails off and she looks at him. Arthur's smiles and he bites his lower lip, not believing what he is hearing.

"I'm definitely up for it, Ms. Lewis."

Her smile turns wicked just as Arthur feels something stroke his erection under the table. He gulps and looks down, Guinevere's dainty toes are touching him through his pants.

"I can see that," she says slowly. "Up and hard."

Her foot goes down slowly and disappears from sight. Arthur grunts softly and looks at the woman sharing his table.

"What do you have in mind?"

She reaches inside her inside a bag that must've been resting on the chair next to her and draws out a folded piece of paper.

"I will be here all morning," she slides the piece of paper across the table. "I will be expecting you in an hour. If you don't appear within sixty minutes, I will not open the door for you."

Arthur's hand reaches for the paper and Guinevere traps his middle finger in her hand. Arthur understands the innuendo and gives another soft grunt of lust.

"And, Arthur?"

He looks at her.

"If you don't show up in an hour, please never show yourself around here again," her voice is silky. "Because I will make your life very, very difficult."

Guinevere gives him another smile, stands up, and slings her bag over her shoulder. She straightens her skirt and walks around the table. As she reaches his side, bends down to whisper in his ear.

"Please don't disappoint me, Arthur," she purrs his name. "I expect a good, hard ride from you."

She places the tiniest kiss on his jaw and is gone.

Arthur hears the door close and he unfolds the piece of paper. The name of a hotel and a room number are written down along with single sentence: 'Bring the condoms.'

The hotel is a short walk away and Arthur knows he has time. He sits back in his chair, sips his coffee, and wills himself to calm down. Guinevere may be expecting a "long, hard ride" from him, but going to her room like an out-of-control fratboy is not the way to go.

A few minutes later, he stands up. A quick trip to a nearby drugstore later and he is on his way to the hotel. Visions of warm tawny skin, chocolate-hued curls, and delicate fingers digging into his skin running through his mind the whole time.

* * *

Guinevere walks around the hotel room, her fingers idly picking up things here and there. She adjusts a flower in a vase, moves the curtains just so, smooths the plush coverlet on the bed-small things to keep her mind from what is about to happen.

_'Or what I hope is about to happen,'_ she thinks to herself.

She has freed the first few buttons of her white blouse. The soft chiffon glides over her breasts and her fingers come up to touch the bared skin. She hopes Arthur will like what she's wearing. Well, until she takes it off, of course. Then she hopes that Arthur will appreciate what she's not wearing.

She looks at the clock and sees that she still has thirty minutes of waiting to do. She undoes another button and sits on the couch; Guinevere has no doubt that Arthur will be at her door. If the erection he sported at the coffee shop was anything to go by, he would be here in no time at all.

There is a soft knock on the door and Guinevere smiles. She walks over the door and looks through the peephole. Arthur is on the other side, his golden hair slightly tousled, as if he ran his fingers through them. The peephole distorts his face, but Guinevere can see that he is tense...and excited. She takes a deep breath and opens the door.

Her eyes meet his and they look at each other. She leans against the door and greets him, positioning her body in a way that makes her blouse gape, allowing him a peek of her chest.

"Arthur," she purrs his name. She moves aside to let him in, closing the door as he crosses the threshold.

"You came," Guinevere draws out the last word.

She sees his nostrils flare and he reaches into the pocket of his denims and draws out the discreet packet of condoms. He lays it on the table and looks at her.

"Yes," he says, his tone guttural. "And with your permission, Ms. Lewis, you will be too."

"Looking forward to it."

Her fingers travel up to her blouse again. This time she pulls it from the waistband of her skirt.

"Do you know what this type of blouse is called, Arthur?"

He shakes his head no.

"Pussybow," Guinevere says softly and she sees his tongue touch a corner of his mouth.

"Interesting name."

"Yes," Guinevere speaks again and walks closer to her guest.

"Pussy...bow." She says the last word as she closes the gap between them, her lips a breath away from his. "Do you like my pussybow, Mr. Pendragon?"

His eyes are nearly blown black with desire.

"I'd prefer it off you, to be honest."

"Right now, Mr. Pendragon, you can have anything you want."

Guinevere hears him growl and suddenly, his mouth his slanting across hers. His lips capturing hers in a kiss that can only be described as scorching. He is gentle but forceful and she matches his desire, parting her lips to give his tongue entry.

Her hands travel up his chest and she feels the muscles underneath his shirt. She becomes impatient and clumsily pulls at the buttons that hold it closed. She pauses when she feels him smile against her lips.

"We have time, Guinevere," the way Arthur says her name makes her quiver. "We can make love all day long."

"Make love to me later," she tells him, desire plain in her tone. "Fuck me now."

Another growl comes from Arthur and she is suddenly swept into his arms. He walks further into the room and places her gently on the bed, sitting down next to her as soon as he sees that she is comfortable.

"Guinevere," his hand cups her cheek. "I want you to know that if you change your mind at any point, you can tell me to stop and I will."

His tenderness touches her and she turns her head into his large, warm palm.

"I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do," Arthur tells her. "God knows I want you..."

She sits up and moves so that she is straddling his lap, her knees on either side of his hips.

"I want this, Arthur," she places a kiss on his lips. "And thank you for telling me what you just did."

She kisses him again and gently pushes him to lie on the bed. As soon as he is under her, her hands start unbuttoning her blouse. She loves the look on his face as she slips the soft material off her shoulders, the way his nostrils flare and his lips part. She takes one of his hands-which has been softly stroking her thigh — and brings it to her stomach.

"Touch me, Arthur," she commands gently. "Touch me, play with me, fuck me, make me cum."

Guinevere has taken off the sheer lace camisole she previously wore under her top so she now feels his hand slowly move up her stomach to cup a breast. Her back arches as he squeezes the mound, and she adjusts her skirt, lifting it higher on her thighs to free herself from its restrictions.

"Please, Arthur."

* * *

Arthur can hardly believe the sight before him. The woman of his dreams was straddling him, begging him to make love to her. If he were a baser man, he would have ripped off her clothes and fell on her like a rutting animal, but Guinevere didn't deserve that. Even in his lust-filled haze he knows that he will never be able to do that to her.

He sits up, careful not to dislodge her from her position and kisses her deeply. Her arms go around his neck and Arthur blissfully drowns in the feel, the smell, and the taste of her. His hands travel to her back, stroking every inch of skin his fingers traverse until they reach the clasp of her bra — the sexy lace bra that he is so jealous of right now because it is next to her glorious breasts.

His fingers work the clasp and then he is sliding the straps down her shoulders and she is shrugging the garment off. Her lips never leave his and he feels her mewl in disappointment as her skin comes in contact with the slightly rough fabric of his shirt.

"No fair," she says in between kisses. "Take it off."

He chuckles and reluctantly parts from her lips. Arthur quickly doffs the shirt and as his head clears the opening, he has his first glimpse of Guinevere's bared body.

Her skin is burnished copper, fairly glowing in the light, her nipples a dusky brown. Her breasts rise and fall with her breath and Arthur is mesmerized. He takes a globe in each hand, his thumbs teasing her already erect nipples even further, plucking at them until they are pebble-hard and Guinevere is grinding against his hardness.

"Dammit, Arthur," her voice is strained. "Be gentle later. You're hard as a rock."

Her hands move to his belt and she takes it off him.

"Fuck me now or I'm throwing you out."

"Your wish is my command."

Arthur flips her over and she is on her back. He makes quick work of the zipper of her pencil-cut skirt and has the garment off her in an instant. He groans as he sees her in lavender lace knickers, and he slips his hand between her thighs, nearly fainting with lust as he feels the proof of her desire: the crotch of her panties are soaked through and she is grinding against his hand.

"Dammit, Arthur..."

He slides that last flimsy piece of cloth off of her and he nearly swallows his tongue as she writhes on the bed. His eyes take in the tawny perfection of her skin, how her waist dips and emphasizes the curve of her hip. Her thigh tapering off to a lithe calf to a delicate ankle. Her gloriously arched feet and sexy, sexy toes.

His hands span her waist and slowly movie up to her breasts. He is grateful that they are full and heavy in his hands. Unable to help himself, Arthur bends and takes a nipple in his mouth, laving it with his tongue, none-too-gently biting it until her back is arching of the bed and her hands are holding his head, her fingers tangling in his hair.

Arthur's lips travel up her neck and he smiles in complete male satisfaction against her skin as he discovers a spot that makes her shudder in pleasure. His mouth slants against hers once more and his tongue discovers her flavor just as she finds out about his.

The need for air causes Arthur to raise his head and he is once again looking down at the goddess whose teasing smile is beckoning to him. A playful, fully clothed Guinevere was hot, but a naked and willing Guinevere was mind-blowing.

Arthur sees her draw her knees up and plant her feet on the bed. She opens her knees and lets him see the most secret part of her. Wet, pink, and swollen with need.

"Do you like me, Arthur?"

Arthur doesn't reply, instead he kneels on the floor, parts her thighs even further, and pulls her close to him. He smells her arousal and looks up to see her gazing down at him, her eyes full of lust.

"Let me show you how much."

He gives her a small lick and feels her shudder in pleasure.

"I love it, Guinevere," he murmurs against her. "And I'm going to make her cum."

* * *

Guinevere swears she has died and gone to heaven. Arthur was eating her out like a man starved. His tongue swirls, dips, licks, and thrusts in her cunt until she is unable to do anything but sigh his name.

One of his large hands travel up her body and captures a breast, his fingers playing with pebble-hard nipple. The other joins his lips and tongue, and he fingers her clit, drawing out her pleasure. Causing a keening wail to erupt from her lips.

Arthur continues his ministrations until she is practically grinding into his face. Her hands grasp the back of his head and presses him closer. In response, he murmurs against her pussy, the vibrations adding another level of pleasure to her body that is already humming with desire.

"Arth...oh, my God," she says. Her voice breaking with lust, wanting nothing more than for him to plow into her.

"Mmmm?" His response vibrates against her and she shudders again. So, so, so close to cumming.

"Stop," she says, and when he releases her and looks into her lust-hooded eyes, she doesn't see regret or disappointment — she sees concern. He is worried he has done something wrong.

Guinevere's heart swells with emotion and she scrambles to change her position on the bed, laying on her stomach, with her face close to his, wanting to erase the doubt from his mind. She wants this-him-but not this way. She wants to give him pleasure, too.

She nuzzles his nose, planting tiny kisses all over his cheeks and jawline until she feels him relax.

"I'm sorry," she says, hoping to appease the man who is still on his knees before her. "I still want this Arthur, I still want you."

She kisses his lips softly and she is thrilled to taste herself on them.

"But I want you in me," she says against his lips which she feels bowing into a smile. "I want your cock in my pussy."

She licks her moisture from his lips.

"I told you I want a good, hard ride..."

She parts from him and lays down on the bed again, raising her knees and parting her thighs. One hand trails down her body and touches her swollen labia, the other clutching at her breast.

"And that's what I'm going to get."

Her words and the sight of her body is too much for Arthur and he stands up. His hands make quick work of his trousers and he is soon free of them.

Guinevere sees his manhood — thick, hard, perfect, and fully erect — standing almost straight up against his stomach, and she is unable to help the moan that escapes her lips. He turns away for a while and Guinevere is puzzled, until she sees the foil packet falling to the ground. his shoulders move and she knows he is rolling the latex sheath on himself.

_'Shame,'_ she thinks. _'I wanted to do that.'_

He turns back to her and the sight of him makes her mouth water. He is just so fucking perfect.

"Arthur, please," she begs, the sight of him too much for her to bear. "I need you."

He gives a small growl and he is on her. The muscled length of his body covering her petite frame. The roughness of the hair on his chest rubs against her sensitized skin and she is writhing underneath him, her hands groping blindly between their bodies so she can grasp his hard cock — wanting to guide him inside her.

"Please, please, please," she mutters, all pretense gone. "Fuck me now, please."

She feels him part her thighs and he settles between them, kneeling on the bed as he stares at her. Guinevere arches her back and gives him a better view of her pussy, sliding the silk of her inner thighs against his hips.

He leans over her again, his lips a breath away from hers, and she feels him glide the head of his cock against her wet pussy lips.

"God, I want you," he whispers, his voice is guttural with need. "From the moment I saw you, I wanted you."

She feels his cock slip inside her the tiniest bit and she moans, her hands over her head, clutching at the pillows.

"This is what you do to me," he slips in the tiniest bit further. "All I have to do is think of you and I'm hard."

Guinevere is mindless with lust now and she leans up and touches the tip of her tongue to his lower lip.

"You're a witch," he tells her and she smiles.

"Fuck the wickedness out of me," Guinevere raises her hips, sheathing him a little more inside her. "Turn me good."

He gives her a hot, wet kiss that leaves her gasping.

"No," Arthur says as he kneels up again. His hands at her her waist and he stills her movements.

"I want you just like this." And with that Arthur plows into her.

* * *

_'Tight, so fucking tight,'_ are the words going through Arthur's head.

He looks at the woman underneath him — her breasts bouncing with each thrust he makes, her mouth parted in an 'o', her hands grasping his hips, wanting to pull him closer — and he is gone. So far gone in the feel and the smell and the taste of her that he's not sure how he waited so long to meet her.

Guinevere feels and moves like she is made for him. Her breasts fill his hands perfectly, the way she says his name makes him feel invincible, and how she feels wrapped around him — squeezing him as he thrusts inside — Arthur nearly goes cross-eyed with pleasure.

"Guinevere," he moans her name. "Oh God...you're...you're so tight,"

A throaty moan is all Arthur gets in response. Her arms come down from where she is clutching the pillow under her head and they travel down her torso until she is holding her breasts. Arthur licks his lips as he sees her squeeze them all the while she is moaning, writhing, moving as he sinks deeper and deeper into her.

"More," she finally says, opening her eyes to look directly into his. "Harder, Arthur, more, please."

One, two, three thrusts and Arthur pulls out of her leaving her gasping in surprise. His cock is soon replaced by his fingers, he touches her warm wetness, marveling at the swollen lips , and pleased that he has affected her this way.

He gently moves one hand upward as the other grasps his swollen member gently stroking himself but being very, very careful not to go overboard. He wants to come inside her, with her.

"Do you have any idea how much I wanted to do this to you the moment I saw you?"

He palms a breast and squeezes it none too gently.

"I wanted to pull you on that table and fuck you senseless."

Arthur leans down and plants a kiss on Guinevere's stomach, and without another word flips her over so that his hands are spanning the length of her back. She understands and positions herself, raising her bottom and spreading her knees, bracing herself for what is about to happen.

Arthur kneels between her legs and teases her opening with the tip of his cock. His eyes flutter closed as he feels her-warm, slick, and swollen with desire. He sheathes himself a little inside her, letting Guinevere grow accustomed to him in this position, and leans over her, whispering in her ear.

"I may just get my chance," he growls and gently bites an earlobe. "You feel so good, Guinevere."

One swift thrust and he was deep inside her. His act wrenches a cry from Guinevere and he stills, wondering is he hurt her. Arthur whispers her name, worried that he has carried this too far, that he has forgotten himself in his passion.

"Don't stop," Guinevere looks over her shoulder at him. "Please don't stop, Arthur."

He places a kiss on her shoulder and begins to move, deep and slow, as he whispers in her ear, telling her how he enjoys her tightness, how he loves that she is wet for him, how he enjoys seeing her breasts bounce as he pounds into her.

"Fuuuck," Guinevere groans as she shakes underneath him.

"Tell me what you want," Arthur pants in her ear. "Say it, Guinevere."

She moans and pushes back against him, sheathing him more fully inside her. Arthur grins and ghosts his hands under her body to play with her clit.

"I can't give you want you want if you don't tell me," he says as he teases the button of nerves between her legs. "Do you want it slow and deep?"

He drawls out the word as his body demonstrates his meaning, eliciting whimpers from Guinevere.

"Or fast and hard?"

He pumps quickly in and out of her and her whimpers turn into a long, drawn-out moan.

"Tell me, Guinevere."

Arthur kisses Guinevere's neck as his hand moves faster over her mound.

"Fast," she gasps. "Hard. Make me cum, Arthur, please."

He thrusts in and out of her, his hips a blur of motion as he does her bidding. But it isn't enough. The feel of her around him, the smell of her surrounding him wasn't enough. He wants to see her; wants to know how she looks like as he brings her to climax.

Arthur pulls out of her again and this time, Guinevere growls. As she turns around to face him, Arthur captures her lush lips in a kiss.

"I want to see you," he whispers against them. "I have to see you when you cum."

Guinevere lays back down, wrapping her legs around Arthur's waist as she pulls him down over her, between her spread thighs.

"The next time you stop," she says as she angles her hips to receive him. "I'm throwing you out of this room."

"No chance," Arthur says as he sheathes himself fully inside her.

Arthur sees her sigh in satisfaction and it isn't long before he feels her walls constrict around his cock. He grunts in pure masculine satisfaction and pounds even harder into her, his hips a blur of motion.

Her hands claw at his hips, wanting to bring him closer to her. Arthur complies and leans over her, holding himself up on one hand while the other once again travels down to the juncture of her thighs, playing again with her clit. One of Guinevere's hands cover his, showing him how to please her while the other covers a breast. Arthur carefully draws a nipple into his mouth, suckling softly at the turgid peak, knowing that any further stimulation may be too much for her to handle.

A keening wail comes from Guinevere's lips and he knows she close. Arthur drives deeper, going faster as she commanded, but he, too, needs more.

He places tiny kisses along Guinevere's delicate collarbones, moving up to her jaw before settling on her lips.

"Guinevere," he whispers her name and her hand cups his cheek.

"Arthur," she whispers back and he sees the delicious tension that grips her features. She bites her lower lip just as her body tenses.

"I...I'm cumming," she says against his lips.

He smiles.

"Cum for me, darling," the endearment falls naturally from him and he laves at the lip she is worrying.

Arthur pounds into her, his fingers swirling in her wetness, his lips paying tribute to her body, and soon she is shouting his name, arching into him, her legs tight about his waist. Her eyes flutter closed and this vision is enough to bring Arthur to the brink.

One, two, three thrusts and he is there as well. He falls on top of her, a forearm braces against the mattress to buffer his weight, but she wants him close and wraps her arms around him. Arthur complies and buries his face against her neck.

"Guinevere," he breathes against her lavender-scented curls.

"Arthur," she says as well.

He moves so that she is in his arms; her head on his chest, his arms wrapped around her as they come down from the high of their shared climax. Arthur presses soft kisses into her hair, Guinevere plays with the sweat-dampened curls on his chest.

"Was I a good ride?" She asks teasingly, after they have both recovered from their exertions.

"That," Arthur says with a smile. "And more."

Exhaustion steals over them and they slowly fall asleep, content to be in each other's embrace. Arthur makes a mental note to ask her out. He does not want to make this encounter casual, his heart and his mind want something more.

Arthur wakes to an empty room, the only reminder of her is a piece of paper left on the bedside table with an oh-so-cinematic note: "You were wonderful."

A kiss marks where her lipsticked mouth touched it beside her name.

Arthur smiles ruefully. He would have wanted to see her wake, helped her dress, kissed her goodbye. But somehow he isn't too worried, he knows he will see her at the coffee shop.

* * *

Guinevere bites her lower lip. It's a Monday and it is her first day at her new job. It has taken her a lot of effort to secure her position as a member of Pendragon Holdings' legal team, but here she is.

She is waiting at the lobby outside the office of the new CEO. Uther Pendragon's son, but she has yet to see who he is. The press has been hush-hush about his identity, and not even with her excellent research skills has she been able to find out anything about her new boss.

The doors to the office open and out stream a few people. She recognizes the heads of several departments and Annis Covington, the head of the legal department, smiles warmly at her.

Guinevere is lucky that her direct superior was one of her professors in law school. She expects no preferential treatment, of course, but was nice to see a familiar face.

Mr. Pendragon's executive assistant, a rather distinguished gentleman named Geoffrey, walks over to her and says that she is expected inside.

Guinevere stands and smooths her skirt. She thanks Geoffrey who smiles and wishes her a good day. Squaring her shoulders, she walks to the door and knocks twice.

"Come in," a deep male voice answers and an a thrill runs down Guinevere's spine.

She knows that voice.

She walks in and is greeted by a man in a dark charcoal suit. In one hand is cradled a large white coffee mug.

"Guinevere," Arthur says. "Would you join me for a drink?"

Her smile lights up her face and she cannot help but laugh. She sees the joyful grin on Arthur's face and she knows at once that he has thought of her as much as she has of him.

"Thank you, Mr. Pendragon." She accepts his offer and walks over to take the proffered beverage.

She takes a sip and discovers that it is perfect.

Arthur takes the cup from her hand and lays it on the table. He then raises her fingers to his lips and kisses each digit.

"You will receive no special treatment here, of course," his laughing eyes take away the gravity of his words. "I'm the boss here."

Guinevere is made bold by his expression and she moves closer until his hips are braced by large desk. She nudges his thighs apart and stands between them.

"I know," her lips are a breath away from him his. "May I ask a question Mr. Pendragon?"

"Go ahead."

Arthur's tongue flicks at her lower lip and Guinevere is unable to hide the shudder that runs through her body.

"Do you like my pussybow, Mr. Pendragon?"


End file.
